Urban Sensation. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ continue despising him. Evan hated using his intimate knowledge of her for leverage, but it was, unfortunately, necessary. He, better than anyone, understood her deepest fears.

      The full reality of how little regard she had for him now pierced him. The tender feelings she’d cherished were no more. When the right time came, he would tell her that she needn’t waste so much energy loathing him for he already despised himself enough for the both of them.

      “I have to go soon.” He didn’t explain the admission, simply made the statement. But he knew his limitations. The medicine would begin to wear off any minute now. Getting caught in all this—he considered the sights and sounds of the town he had once treasured simply because this is where Rowen was—would be suicide. Taking another dose this soon wouldn’t be a good idea, either. “You should turn this case over to someone else, Rowen. Now. Today.”

      Rowen stood there, staring at him. His final words had rendered her speechless and immobile for what felt like an eternity. How could he possibly be aware of all these things? The man she had known three years ago had been in the business of investigating psychic phenomena. It was his job. But, above all else, he was a scientist, one employed by the FBI. The Gateway program—scientific investigation of the paranormal. To listen to him now made her feel as if the words were coming from a stranger. All of it was so very un-Hunter like.

      Had he lost his mind? He, of all people, knew she couldn’t—wouldn’t—walk away from a case once she’d started. Changing investigators midstream would only set things back, slow down the race to nail the bastard taking innocent lives. No way would she let that happen as long as the choice was hers.

      The idea that Evan Hunter had somehow developed a mental disorder from the stress associated with his work crossed her mind. That would certainly explain a lot, she decided as she surveyed him once more.

      This definitely was not the man she had known, the man she’d fallen head over heels in love with. The same one who had, without a second thought, shattered her foolish heart.

      Outrage solidified her courage. “Thank you for your insights, Hunter. I’ll take your suggestions under advisement. But—” now or never, she had to do this “—I hope you’ll understand when I say I have work to do. Thanks for dropping by.”

      He hesitated, didn’t want to give up on whatever the hell he was trying to prove. But she couldn’t deal with another moment of this. Just being in the same room with him made her ache in places she’d thought long healed.

      For an entire year, she’d accepted that she was over Evan Hunter. That he was dead.

      Determined to be rid of him, she put her hand to his shoulder to encourage him along. He visibly flinched. The realization that he would draw away at her touch ripped open a whole new wound. Why the hell would he show up here like this and then recoil at her touch?

      “Just go,” she demanded. Whatever his motivation for a personal appearance, she wasn’t getting dragged into it. End of story.

      Thankfully, he appeared to recognize when he was beaten and moved toward the door. His warnings kept swirling around in her head, popping up from different angles, making her wonder if he could know things she didn’t.

      But how was that possible?

      She shook off the ridiculous concept.

      Maybe, she contemplated, he was still working for the FBI.

      She hesitated before opening the door, allowed her gaze to move back to his face. “If the Bureau wants in on this case, they should just say so. This kind of tactic is pointless.” Proud of herself for saying the last without her voice quavering, she opened the door and waited for him to get the hell out of her house.

      He didn’t do so immediately, which made her want to haul out her Glock and force the issue.

      “Remember what I said, Rowen,” he reminded softly. “You must be very careful.”

      He walked out. Rowen watched him stride down the cobble-stoned alleyway, the sun glinting off his shiny black hair. He looked exactly like the kind of man who might have haunted these narrow streets two or three hundred years ago. The only things missing in the picture he made were the darkness and the swirling fog around his long legs. The very two items that had likely cloaked his movements as he’d entered her home via illegal means before dawn.

      She shuddered and closed the door.

      As if on cue, her body started to shake with the receding adrenaline.

      Evan Hunter was alive.

      She took two or three long, deep breaths to slow her racing heart, to calm her frazzled nerves. Why had he come back?

      His warning echoed inside her. How could he know so much about her case unless he was still involved with the FBI on some level? He couldn’t. Maybe his team was investigating the murders.

      But the Feds had claimed he was no longer in their service when she’d tried to find him three years ago.

      She laughed dryly, bemused at the twinge of surprise the thought provoked. Why on earth was she surprised? Lies were often used as effective tools in law enforcement, from cover profiles to interrogation techniques. She’d used them herself on numerous occasions.

      But this had been personal and she wasn’t about to forgive Evan Hunter…no matter how good his motivation for dropping off the face of the planet.

      And if the Feds were involved in her case, they’d damned well better get on board and fess up.

      The chief had a contact or two. Maybe he could determine if the Bureau was snooping around in any capacity. She glanced at her watch. Dammit. She was late.

      She had a date at the morgue.

      The click-click-click of doggy toenails announced the arrival of Princess. She looked expectantly at Rowen.

      Okay, she had a date at the morgue after she took Princess for a walk.

      Life was all about priorities.

      She thought about Carlotta Simpson and her decision, despite the threatening weather, to walk home at such an ungodly hour, thereby saving herself the fare. Death was about priorities, as well. The difference was, you didn’t get a chance to regret your decisions.

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